


Rome the Boss and the Chibi Wars

by SwitzyFangirl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Puppy Love, Rome is a Perv
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwitzyFangirl/pseuds/SwitzyFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rome is a pervert. Prussia and Spain are delinquents. Hungary is a boy. Axis Powers began at 2. Germania is a ‘mom’. Greece is a brat. Romano makes fun of France. France has a crush on Scotland who is not a pedophile. Prussia likes France. Hungary likes Prussia. Austria likes Switzerland. Switzerland hates Italy. Italy is a hair dresser. England likes Spain. Spain is crying about his tomatoes. Switzerland makes his way home after his latest run away attempt. Wales, N. Ireland, and Ireland don’t show up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rome the Boss and the Chibi Wars

**Author's Note:**

> Rome’s Kids (in order of age):  
> Spain  
> France  
> Greece  
> Romano  
> Italy
> 
> Germania’s Kids (in order of age):  
> Prussia  
> Austria  
> Germany  
> Switzerland  
> Denmark  
> Sweden 
> 
> Rome/Britannia’s Kids (in order of age):  
> Scotland  
> N. Ireland  
> Ireland  
> Wales  
> England
> 
> Hungary is a boy because…well…because I like Male!Hungary

“Lunches?” Germania grumbled under his breath, going through Rome’s basket.

“ _Aio_!” Rome rolled his eyes. “I’m just taking the _liberi_ to the park. We’ll be back by 2:00, 3:00 tops.”

Germania glared at him. “Yes, well, you said you wanted to take mine as well, and I don’t exactly trust you with Austria since last time.”

Austria appeared in the doorway. “G-Germania?” He asked, whimpering softly.

Germania rushed over. “What happened?”

“Prussia and S-Spain are picking on F-France again and they’ve got his v-violin!”

“Great, just great.” He looked back at Rome. “This is not over, got it?”

Rome saluted him, smirking. “ _Aio, potior, aio_!”

Prussia and Spain dropped the violin in front of the sobbing French boy and ran for the back door, stopped by Rome. He picked them up by their collars. “What have I told you about being mean to your younger siblings?”

Prussia stuck his tongue out. “The little girl-boy should learn to fight back!”

Spain elbowed him, looking a bit sheepish. “Prussia, he is just a child.”

“Still think he’s a chick.”

France glared, clutching his violin to his chest. “ _Mon haine tu, Stupide imbecile_!”

“What kind of language is that anyway?” Prussia demanded. “It sounds so girly!”

“He was using mostly feminine verbs.” Rome admitted.

“Gaul taught me!” He defended.

“Ah, yes, your grandmother.” Rome nodded. “Germania, I took care of it!”

Germania ran over to France, a hairbrush in his hand. “Italy! Your brother needs calming!”

Italy toddled over, grabbed the brush, and got to work on the still sobbing France’s hair. “Ve, ve, France-chan!”

“N-not a girl!” France whined.

Romano jerked a thumb at France’s hair. “Need I say more, bastard?” He asked.

“I want SCOTT!” France sobbed.

“He’s at his mothers.” Germania told him, handing Italy a hair tie. “You’re going out with Rome today, put his hair up.”

“Not with those monsters!” Austria and France cried.

“Ja, with those monsters. I’ll deal with Prussia, Rome can handle Spain.” Germania settled his gaze on Prussia. “Twenty laps around the block and you have to carry France all the way to the park.” Rome dropped Prussia, who was smart enough to run for the door.

“Spain, 500 sit ups, you get to carry Italy.”

Spain nodded. “Si papa!” He ran for the backyard.

Germania leaned against the wall with a sigh.

 

“Germania?” Rome asked, carrying a screaming Romano under one arm and a sleeping Greece under the other.

“Ja, what is it?” Germania glanced up from his book and pushed his reading glasses up.

“Will you come with us?” Rome pouted. “I can’t hold these two and keep Prussia and Spain on leashes. Austria and France won’t listen to me, Germany cries when you’re not around, and Prussia goes out of his way to convince Spain to make my life hell.”

Germania smiled and placed his glasses on the counter. “Fine, I’ll go. I’ll grab the backpack leashes and the stroller.”

It took no less than half an hour to get Germany, Romano, and Greece into the stroller, Prussia and Spain into their backpack leashes while carrying Italy and France, and Austria holding Germania’s hand. Germania sighed in relief when it was over and they were on the walk to the park to meet up with China and his brood.

China, a preteen, trying to raise Japan often struggled with his youngest brother.

Germania waved at China. “Yao, nice to see you.”

“Germania-san!” Japan called.

Germania sent him a small smile and lifted Germany out of the stroller, releasing him to go play with Italy and Japan. Germany didn’t look back.

Germania yelped and Rome backed up a bit, holding his hands in the air, an innocent look on his face. Germania blushed, glaring at him. “Not in front of the children!” He ground his teeth.

Rome smirked. “Is that a ‘later’?”

Germania sighed. “Maybe.”

Rome ran off after Prussia, Romano, and Spain, leaving France, Austria, and Greece with Germania. Austria and France looked at him expectantly, Austria holding a sleeping Greece.

Germania smiled. “Swings?”

France clapped happily.

Austria adjusted his glasses. “That would be nice.”

 

“Hey, uh, Germania?” Rome appeared silently behind him, while he was feeding Greece some grapes. The little brunette glared sleepily at his father. “Papa go bye-bye, Germania play with me.”

“What is it Rome?” Germania asked, popping another grape in the toddler’s mouth.

“I, uh, lost Prussia and Spain.”

Germania dropped the zip-lock bag of grapes right in Austria’s lap. “Feed Greece, make sure France eats his food. I get to go save your brother.”

Austria rolled his eyes. “Rome’s staying with us?”

“And I’m running to the police station to bail the two of them out.”

Rome looked sheepish. “You don’t know that they’ve done anything illegal yet.”

“It’s Prussia.” Germania rolled his eyes in time with Austria.

 

Germania walked into the police station, carrying a sleeping Germany. He walked up to an officer. “An albino and a Spanish boy?”

He nodded. “They yours?”

Germania sighed. “The albino. They were supposed to be being watched by Antonio’s father. Didn’t work out, he lost them.”

“Do they end up here often?”

Germania nodded. “I’m tempted to put them in juvenile detention for a day, show them what they’d have to deal with. They’d probably band all the kids together and take over. Gilbert has a habit of doing that.”

The officer led him to the cell where Spain was playing a harmonica and Prussia was clanking a metal cup against the bars.

Germania adjusted Germany, who simply yawned. “Gilbert Fritz Beilschmidt!” He growled before turning his gaze to Spain. “Antonio Fernandez Carriedo!”

They looked up at him, Spain giving him the puppy dog eyes. “Get us out please, Germania-san!”

“Parole again?” He asked the officer.

The man nodded. “Check in once a month, fine of 200 each.”

Germania pulled a checkbook out of his pocket and signed a check for $500 dollars. “For the trouble.” He explained.

The officer nodded, opening the cell. “You’re free. Don’t come back.”

The boys whooped and ran for the door, getting grabbed be Germania. “Gilbert, grounded, Antonio, grounded. Until your parole is over you are not to leave the house, no TV, no video games, no computer. No wurst, and no tomatoes.”

Spain started crying. “Tomato! Tomato!”

Prussia rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever dad.” He looked toward another sell. “Hungary’s in the slammer to.”

Germania bailed Hungary out, knowing the boy would be spending the night.

 

Germania stepped into the living room after the children were all in bed, sitting on the couch next to Rome, who was watching a soccer game. “Your son…is crying about tomatoes.”

Rome rolled his eyes. “He’ll get over it.”

“They broke Austria’s piano again.”

“I’ll call the music store tomorrow.”

“France wants you to read him a story.” Rome paused the game. “Coming Francis! Daddy’s coming!”

Germania leaned back on the couch, watching Rome leave. “Good, he’s getting the hang of parenthood. Greece and Egypt would be proud. And Gaul…she’d kick his ass.”

 

Rome returned twenty minutes later, praising his skills as a father. He sat next to Germania and scooted closer to him almost immediately.

“Rome.” Germania warned, poking him in the nose. “Prussia and Spain are still awake.”

“They’re having a sleep over with Hungary, duh.” Rome rolled his eyes, pulling Germania into his lap. “Why don’t we take this-“

“You know either Italy or Greece will have a nightmare and interrupt us. Or France, ever since his country started going to war he dreams of the dead.”

“Why is it only my children?” Rome asked.

“Because Austria stays up all night hoping Switzerland-“

The doorbell rang and Germania opened it, looking down at the rain soaked Swiss boy. He picked him up. “Chocolate?”

“Yes please.” Switzerland responded dejectedly.

Rome came over with some chocolate, and then headed to draw a bath for Switzerland and tell Austria the good news.

Austria ran in the room with a fresh pink nightgown, straight from Switzerland’s drawers. “Vash!” He smiled. “I missed you!”

“Fuck off curly.” Switzerland glared. “You’re still the same little girl I have to rescue, aren’t you?”

Austria, well used to the way Switzerland talked, just kept smiling and chattering on about what Switzerland had missed.

 

Switzerland was the first at the breakfast table, sliding into his seat without a word. Germania glanced up from the eggs toward his renegade son. “Austria almost had his arm broken by Prussia while you were gone. He didn’t tell you that, did he? It turned out to just be a bad sprain.”

“I’ll deal with big bruder later.” Switzerland said dejectedly, propping his head up with one hand. “I’m getting sick of leaving home.”

“Then don’t.” Germania replied.

“How will Austria learn to defend himself if I don’t?” Switzerland demanded.

“Teach him.” Germania smiled at the thought of his little musician fighting. The same one who was practicing right now with France, training the French boy to play the piano.

A shriek woke the whole house. “Prussia! Put him down!”

Germania looked at Switzerland. “Watch the eggs!”

Switzerland nodded, watching his father run for the music room.

 

“Prussia, are you sure-“

“Shut up Spain, just hold him.” Prussia yelled back at him, jerking France’s arm up farther behind the young nations back.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Prussia!” France sobbed. “That hurts!”  
“Prussia, stop it!” Austria yelled.

“Shut up specs, you’re next!” Prussia growled at him.

He was suddenly knocked off France and lifted up by his collar by a Scotsman.

Scotland glared down his nose at Prussia. “Lea mah wee brother alone.”

Prussia glared right back.  “Stay out of my way Scott!”

“Tis Alistair tae th' likes o' ye.” Scotland hissed, now nose to nose with Prussia.

Germania ran in. “Damn it Scotland, let me handle this.”

Scotland tossed Prussia to Germania. Germania dragged the kicking and screaming Prussia upstairs and threw him in his room, locking the door from the outside. Prussia pounded against it. “I’ll be back to talk to you after I’ve fixed your mess.”

 

France was clinging to Scotland, hiccupping sobs when Germania got back. His fists were balled in Scotland’s jacket.

“Shhhh...you'll be braw Francis.” Scotland promised. “He juist bruised ye a bawherr.”

“Thanks Scotland.” Germania told him, putting his leg out just in time to trip Rome. France, Spain, and Austria laughed.

Mission accomplished, Germania-san.

Rome held his now bleeding nose between two fingers, causing even Scotland to chuckle.

“Nice to know my children think so much of me.” Rome rolled his eyes. “I heard Austria screaming. What happened?”

“Prussia tried to snap France’s arm off.” Germania told him.

Rome’s face darkened. “When do we talk to him?”

“After breakfast I’ll bring him his and you and I can figure out why this happened, then focus on punishment.”

“But why?” Rome whined.

“So it doesn’t happen again.” Germania rolled his eyes.

 

Prussia swung his legs back and force, watching hands.

“Prussia?” Germania opened the door, a firm hold on Rome’s ear. “Want to talk?”

Prussia gulped. “Not with him.”

“You little brat! You tried to break _my_ beautiful little France’s arm! I should kill you!”

“See what I mean…” Prussia grumbled, scooting over so Germania and Rome could sit on the bed as well.

“Rome, if I let you go will you hurt him?” Germania asked.

“No! No! Ow! Damn it!” Rome whined as Germania tugged on his ear. Germania released him, locking the door.

“First off, you know what you did was wrong.” Germania sat.

Prussia nodded.

“Do you know why you did it?” He asked.

Prussia whipped at his eyes. “N-no.”

Germania pulled Prussia into his lap, running his fingers through the young nation’s snow white hair. “What happened first?”

“Spain wanted to go hear France play the piano, he said that Austria said France was getting good. I agree and…” He stopped. “I think I pounced as soon as I looked at them. I can’t exactly remember.”

“Who were you the most mad at?”

“Austria.” Prussia growled, fists clenching. “I wanted to smash his specs right into his face.”

“Were you mad at France?”

Prussia shook his head. “I don’t think so. It felt…different.”

Germania smiled, resting his head on top of Prussia’s. “You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?” Rome and Prussia asked, glaring at each other.

“When Rome and I were kids he would always try and beat me up. I usually ended up getting away and escaping to the forest. It usually started because I was spending time with someone else.”

“That’s different I had a crush-“ Rome’s eyes widened. “No, no, no a thousand times no!”

“It’s better than him trying to marry Scotland.” Germania reminded him.

“He wants to _MARRY_ the damn Scotsman?!” Prussia growled, jumping down and grabbing his sword out from under the bed. “Prepare to die Scotland!” He ran out, screaming a battle cry. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Latin:  
> Yes  
> Children  
> Yes, master, yes!
> 
> French:  
> I hate you, stupid idiot.
> 
> German:  
> Yes  
> A German Sausage


End file.
